It’s never an auspicious start when your flight is delayed. Stepping aboard the Airbus vessel adorned with Egyptair colours, the greeting is curt, almost nonchalant. Flying in coach (economy class to non-Yankees), meant having to walk almost to the back of the plane.
The patterned blue seats gave the interior a strange sallow sheen. The air conditioning was off, so the atmosphere was ripe with staleness and lingering body odour mixed with dissipating perfume aromas.
The various (middle-aged) male flight attendants who would not look out of place as prison wardens raised barely a smile. IPad out, I waited for the inevitable throng to filter in. Layout was 2-4-2, and I had deliberately chosen a middle aisle. Clouds, as pretty as they are, would not be visible for the majority of my flight in the dark. Besides, there’s nothing worse than trying to squeeze past or clamber over a snoring hippo when you are desperate.
In-flight entertainment was rather pedestrian. After the luxury of other airlines, I got up to five movies per genre – probably totalling no more than sixty choices in total. I didn’t bother to look at the Arabic selection, which I’m sure would be the cream of The crop – Egypt being akin to the Hollywood of the Levantine world.
I watched the weepie “The Fault in Our Stars” – an engaging tragi-rom (tragic romance) with two luminous leads, and a punchy script that wavered carefully between pathos and melodrama.
Food was easily the most disappointing feature on this flight. I hadn’t flown EgyptAir for several years, and the reunion was not encouraging. I opted for the chicken meal, and a glass of guava juice (easily the most palatable thing of the service). The chicken was seasoned well, but over-cooked, and as tough as the leather in my shoes. I ate some of the olives and cucumber which formed part of the salad. The obligatory bun was wrapped up in plastic and felt almost ice-cold. I tried the dessert – some sort of layered chocolate gateau – and decided that I didn’t need to make believe I could eat cardboard. So unappetising it was that I didn’t even bother to snap a photo.
The only thing worse than the meal is the thought of the scrum I would have to fight through at Cairo Immigration.